Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, only the Archard family and other OCs belong to me. The French words/phrases will be italicized, as well as the spells. Reviews are appreciated!

Chapter 3: The Dinner Party

Harry POV

George had said we would arrive at their house in about ten minutes or so. As a pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east, I thought I could finally look through the letters Dobby had stolen. When Aunt Petunia had found them after Dobby disappeared, she locked them in the cupboard under the stairs with my school things.

I carefully undid the string holding them all together and shuffled through them. Setting aside the ones from Ron, I saw most of the bundle were actually from Hermione, a few from Neville and Hagrid, and to my shock, there was a letter from Esme. I reached to open it when I felt the car begin to lower. Looking out the window, I saw a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees.

"We're a little way outside the village of Ottery St. Catchpole," said George.

Fred took the flying car lower and lower. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees. "Touchdown!" exclaimed Fred, and with a slight bump, we hit the ground.

We landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and just a bit further was the Weasley's house.

I hadn't known what to imagine when I thought of a wizarding house, but looking at the Weasley's home, I knew it just had to be magical, there was no way it would exist without magic. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read The Burrow, and there were several fat brown chickens pecking their way around the yard as we got out of the car.

"Now, we'll get inside and really quietly go upstairs," said Fred, as he and George helped me get my things out of the boot, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, 'Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."

Fred and George led the way to the house. One of the twins reached in through the door window to unlock the door. "Come on. Okay, come. Sh~!" he whispered back as he waved the rest of us inside after checking that the coast was clear. "Okay, come on."

I carefully moved past him inside, quickly taking everything in. While Number Four Privet Drive was cold and obsessively clean with pastel colours, The Burrow appeared warm and lived in; it felt like a home. My eyes were instantly caught by a pan getting scrubbed clean by magic, reminding me that this definitely wasn't a Muggle home, but a wizarding one.

Ron came up next to me munching on a scone. "It's not much, but it's home."

"I think it's…brilliant," I replied with a wide smile, one which Ron soon returned. Suddenly, Ron's face turned a nasty greenish colour, as the pounding of feet on wood sounded from nearby. I turned around to see a short, plump, kind faced woman, remarkably looking similar to a saber-toothed tiger as she marched down the last of the stairs.

"Oh, dear," one of the twins muttered behind me.

Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring down at each of us. "Where, have, you, been?" she said, enunciating each word in anger. She suddenly smiled sweetly as her eyes landed on me. "Harry, how wonderful to see you dear." She then turned back to the others. "Beds empty! No note! Car gone! You could've died! You could've been seen!" She turned back to me. "Of course, I don't blame you, Harry dear."

"They were starving him, Mum!" Ron spoke up, "There were bars on his window!" I flinched at the reminder, though I didn't think anyone noticed.

"Well, you'd best hope that I don't put bars on your window, Ronald Weasley!" Her tone once again became soft as she addressed me. "Care for a spot of tea, Harry?"

Mrs. Weasley quickly ushered us all to chairs at the long wooden table while she clattered around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly both on her own and with magic. All the while she would throw dirty looks at her three sons and muttered things like 'don't know what you were thinking of', and 'never would have believed it' under her breath.

Percy soon joined us, barely reacting when he saw me at the table. Not that I minded, I always did appreciate how Percy continuously treated me like everyone else, only caring if anyone was breaking the rules. Other than a snide look when he figured out what his brothers did, he left it alone and dug into his own breakfast.

Mrs. Weasley cooked enough food to more than feed even the Dursleys' appetite, though Ron and his brothers were certainly putting a decent dent into everything. Mrs. Weasley kept shoving food on my plate. Clearly, she registered what Ron had said about the Dursleys starving me.

I paused from eating when a small redheaded girl in a long nightdress appeared in the kitchen. She took one look at me and gave a small squeal before running out again.

"W-what did I do?"

"That was Ginny, my sister," explained Ron. "She's been talking about you all summer. Bit annoying really."

"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word.

Nothing more was said, even as Ginny returned, having changed into a jumper and pants, and tucked into her own plate of food. In a surprisingly short time, all six plates were emptied. Mrs. Weasley casually flicked her wand at the dishes, which all piled into the sink before they began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.

"Blimey, I'm tired," yawned George, his jaw making a small cracking noise. "I think I'll go to bed and-"

"You will do no such thing," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. Now, the three of you who absconded into the night are going to de-gnome the garden; they're getting completely out of hand again-"

"Oh~, Mum~," groaned Ron.

"There will be none of that," she scolded. "Once you're finished then you'll get yourselves cleaned up. We're having dinner with the Archards tonight and I won't have any of you embarrassing us in front of Lord and Lady Archard, so best clothes." She then turned to me, "You can go up to bed, dear. You didn't ask them to fly that wretched car-"

I interrupted her quickly, feeling wide awake ever since she mentioned the dinner with the Archards. "I'll help Ron. I've never seen a de-gnoming before."

"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work." She then took a large book from a stack on the mantelpiece.

The twins both groaned. "Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden."

They quickly scurried out the back door without another word. Mrs. Weasley huffed, but didn't stop them, so Ron and I quickly hurried after them. Gnomes were not at all like how I thought they'd be, and the process of getting rid of them was nothing like I expected either, though quite fun if I was being honest. We spent the better part of the morning and afternoon tossing the gnomes as far as we could, seeing who could throw the farthest.

We were watching the last of the gnomes stagger their way into the hedge-line on the other side of the field, when the sound of a door slamming rang out.

"He's back!" exclaimed George. "Dad's home!"

Ron and the twins hurried through the garden and back into the house. I hesitated for a moment before following after them. Inside the kitchen, Mr. Weasley was slumped in one of the chairs with his eyes closed, looking pretty tired, his long green robes dusty and travel-worn. "What a night," he mumbled, groping for the cup of tea Mrs. Weasley just sat on the table for him. "Nine raids. Nine!"

I sat down next to Ron at the table, and whispered to him, "Raids?"

"Dad works in the Ministry of Magic. In the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office," he whispered back as Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed. "Dad loves Muggles. Thinks they're fascinating."

"Find anything, Dad?" Fred eagerly asked.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department though, thank Merlin…"

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" asked George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it. Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking. They'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face…but the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe-"

"Like cars, for instance?" asked Mrs. Weasley in a biting voice, holding her wand out as if it was a sword.

Mr. Weasley's eyes jerked open, as he stared guiltily at his wife. "C-cars, Molly dear?"

"Yes, Arthur, cars," she said, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly."

Mr. Weasley blinked. "Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if - er~ - he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth…There's a loophole in the law, you'll find…As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't-"

"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"

"Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley blankly. "Harry who?"

He looked around and startled when his eyes landed on me. "Good lord, are you really?" I awkwardly nodded my head, slightly worried at the reaction I was about to get from him, but internally sighed in relief when he didn't react like the other wizards I had met last year in Diagon Alley. "Very pleased to meet you, Harry, Ron's told us all about you, of course."

"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, bringing us back to the point she was trying to make. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"

"Did you really? How'd it go?" asked Mr. Weasley eagerly. Mrs. Weasley lightly smacked his back with a wooden spoon that seemed to appear in her hand out of nowhere. Mr. Weasley faltered as he corrected himself, "I mean...that was very wrong, indeed, boys. Very wrong of you. Now, Harry, you must know all about Muggles. Tell me, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?"

I was completely thrown off by the sudden question. "Oh, um…"

"There's no time for that now, Arthur. Save your questions for later, we have dinner with the Archards tonight. I need to finish these pies, and everyone needs to get cleaned up and dressed. Chop, chop!"

Ron slapped my shoulder with his hand. "Come one, I'll show you my bedroom."

We slipped out of the kitchen to an uneven staircase which wound its way upward, zigzagging as it rose. On the third landing, a door stood ajar. I caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes staring out before it closed with a snap.

"Ginny," said Ron. "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally."

We climbed two more flights until they reached a door with peeling paint and a small plaque on it, saying Ronald's Room. I stepped in and blinked. It was like walking into a furnace, as nearly everything in Ron's room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling.

I then realized that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically. "Your Quidditch team?"

"The Chudley Cannons," said Ron, pointing at the orange bedspread, which was emblazoned with two giant black C's and a speeding cannonball. "Ninth in the league."

Ron's school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a pile of chocolate frog trading cards. His magic wand was lying on top of a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat gray rat Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun.

"It's a bit small," said Ron quickly. "Not like that room you had with the Muggles. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic. He's always banging on the pipes and groaning…"

I grinned honestly. "This is the best house I've ever been in." Ron's ears went pink, but a pleased smile overcame his face, so I knew he was happy.

We found my trunk shoved off to the side, so we each went about trying to find something to wear for tonight. From what I saw, Dudley's old clothes were in even worse shape than Ron's hand-me-downs. I'd always hated how they hung off my thin frame. Remembering the nice quality of Esme's clothing, I was embarrassed that they were all I had for a fancy dinner party I was crashing. Still they were all I had, as it was too warm to wear the sweater Mrs. Weasley had knitted for me last Christmas.

At least I wouldn't be smelly anymore after a proper wash. Ron showed me where the bathroom was. It was small, with everything barely fitting inside, but I didn't mind the old pipes or slightly rusted tub because I got to shower with hot water for as long as I wanted. Still, I didn't let myself stay in there too long and quickly scrubbed up, as I didn't want to use up too much of the hot water. The Weasleys were being so nice to let me stay here, an entire month before we were set to leave for Hogwarts. I had to make sure not to overstay my welcome and help out wherever I could.

Once we were both clean, we went about getting dressed. Ron was nice enough and let me borrow a few of his things that were on the smaller side. They actually fit me pretty well, much better than Dudley's old things, and I marveled at not having to roll anything up or be weighed down by the extra material.

"Boys! Get down here! It's time to go!" Mrs. Weasley called up.

Ron groaned from where he was sprawled out on his bed. "I don't get why Mum agreed to this. Playing Quidditch with them is one thing, but a fancy dinner party is just unbearable."

"I mean, I'm not too excited about it, but who knows, it might not be so bad. You did say you had fun playing Quidditch with them earlier," I replied as we made our way out of Ron's bedroom and down the stairs.

Ron still didn't appear too happy, but at least stayed quiet when we got to the bottom of the stairs where the rest of his family was waiting. Mrs. Weasley, while fretting over everyone's appearance, also appeared very excited. Mr. Weasley meanwhile was calm as he ushered his wife and the rest of us out the door and over to where the car still sat from this morning.

Mrs. Weasley put a large picnic basket into the trunk while the rest of us squeezed into the car - which shockingly seemed to magically expand on the inside to make sure we all fit comfortably. Mr. Weasley obviously had done more than just make the car fly.

Finally, we were ready to go. I fully expected for the car to take off into the sky, but was surprised when Mr. Weasley drove out of The Burrow's driveway the Muggle way.

"The Archards live just on the other side of those woods," George pointed out to me through the window.

"Close enough to walk," added Fred, "but Mum didn't want to get mud on anything."

"It will be dark when we return and would be completely irresponsible to try and walk back in without proper lighting," interjected Percy.

"Whatever, Percy," said George "You can't deny Mum is in a tizzy about this."

"Mother is rightly enthused. She was a Prewett after all, and likely misses attending social events."

"We agree Mum needs to get out more," replied Fred, who kept his voice down to avoid being heard by his parents up front. "But no way does she miss those stuck-up parties I heard about from some of the girls in Gryffindor."

"That's your opinion," Percy snapped. "I for one would be honored to attend something like the annual Winter Ball or even the Ministry's Midsummer Ball."

"That's your opinion," mocked George, doing a poor imitation of Percy's voice.

I saw Percy's face turn red, like Ron's does when he was about ready to snap, and worried if I should do something or not.

"Boys!" reprimanded Mrs. Weasley. "There will be no fighting tonight, or so help me, I will smack your wand hands good with a spoon!"

"Yes, Mum," they all chorused. Silence reigned the rest of the car ride and I desperately hoped we got there soon, as the once oddly spacious car felt too small now. The only one who didn't appear to be sulking from the reprimand was Ron's sister Ginny, who was vibrating in her seat in front of me. She never once looked back at the rest of the entire ride and remained entirely focused on the view outside her window.

At long last, Mr. Weasley turned off the dirt road and onto a long, paved driveway. We passed under a large metal gate, and I could've sworn I saw something like a ripple, but figured I just had a smudge on my glasses I needed to polish off. Trees lined up parallel to the long driveway until the path curved around a large fountain and walkway set up in the center like an island. The evening sun lit everything up, causing the water shooting out of the fountain to sparkle.

I was amazed by the manicured lawn and front grounds, thinking that Aunt Petunia would eat her own hat in jealousy at the beautiful flower beds. But then my eyes finally landed on the house, and I couldn't believe I missed it! It wasn't a house; it was a mansion - it was so huge! I knew Esme had to come from a well-off family for Malfoy to be so respectful of her, but I never imagined her family was filthy rich!

Mr. Weasley stopped the car in front of the steps leading to the large front doors. We all filed out without a word, though I couldn't help but stare at the front. I felt intimidated by the look of the place, and quickly started smoothing my hair down in an attempt to make it look less messy. I felt my hair spring back up like it always did and gave up.

George came up next to me and rubbed his hand hard on my head. "Don't worry, Harry. Despite how it looks, remember that Blaire, Alaric, and their siblings aren't stuck up pricks. Just be polite like you always are and you'll be fine."

I felt some of my nerves settle with George's words, though it mostly helped that he reminded me that I wasn't alone. I had Ron and the rest of the Weasleys with me, and by the look of Mrs. Weasley's fretting, I wasn't the only one who was nervous.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley led the way up the stairs, the eight of us easily fitting on the front landing between two large potted plants. I ended up near the front just behind Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with Ron. Mr. Weasley raised a hand and used the intricate metal knocker on the right door. A few moments later the door opened.

I stared in shock down at the one who answered the door - it was a house-elf!

"Are you the Weasleys?" asked the elf in a gruff voice, which sounded like he'd rather be anywhere else besides speaking to us. He looked entirely different from Dobby with his older, more wrinkly face, large yet beady eyes, and the fancy butler looking suit instead of the gross pillowcase Dobby wore.

"Yes, we are," replied Mrs. Weasley.

"Right this way. Master and Mistress will be with you shortly."

Third Person POV

The Weasleys and Harry Potter all shuffled through the door Paddy held open for them.

"Can Paddy take anyone's coats?" Paddy asked after he shut the front door with a soft click.

The Weasleys and Harry all either shook their heads in denial or verbally said so to the small and old elf - no one brought a jacket with them. Only Molly brought something with her, the wicker basket which carefully held the four pies she spent the afternoon baking.

Ashton and Diaspora then entered from the left of the Weasleys, arm in arm as they greeted their guests. "Welcome to Heaven's Garden," greeted Ashton, not bothering to force a smile and instead appeared as politely blank as always. "I am Lord Ashton Archard, and this is my Lady Wife, Diaspora."

Diaspora on the other hand, smiled brightly and warmly at their guests. "We're so happy to have you in our home."

"Thank you for the invitation," Arthur replied, with a jolly if slightly uncomfortable smile. "I'm Arthur, this is my wife, Molly, and then our children, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. We also brought along our house-guest, Harry Potter."

"I made some pies for dessert," Molly said as she held up the basket she clutched with both hands. "There's strawberry and cream, treacle, lemon meringue, and apple pie."

"How lovely! Thank you for going through such trouble." Diaspora thanked Molly for the desserts, yet made no move to take the basket from her. "Honny," she called out.

Honny, a young looking house-elf appeared, dressed in a miniature chef's outfit with multiple splatters of food stuck to her long front apron. "What can Honny do for Mistress?" asked the house-elf politely in a high bell-like voice.

"Please take the basket of pies from Madame Weasley, and set them aside for dessert," Diaspora gently ordered.

"Right away, Mistress!" cheered Honny. She approached Molly and held out her hands in a grabbing motion. "Honny will take good care of your pies." Molly smiled down at the young elf and carefully handed over the basket. The dinner guests all poorly hid their surprise when the small elf easily handled the basket as if it weighed nothing.

Honny," Ashton suddenly commanded the little elf's attention. "Assurez-vous de vérifier s'il y a des poisons et des potions dans les tartes." The Weasleys and Harry all blinked in confusion at the sudden change in language, but weren't given time to process as the conversation quickly continued.

"Honny will, Master." She then Disapparated with a soft pop.

"Now then, please follow us to the dining room," intoned Ashton, before turning and walking through to the dining room, with Diaspora still gently cradled on his arm. He whispered to his wife, "I wasn't expecting the Potter Heir Apparent this evening."

"Neither was I, though one extra person won't be any trouble," Diaspora whispered back. "I already had Dimper and Honny prepare more than enough food as Alaric and Blaire had mentioned the Weasley boys had quite the appetites."

Inside the dining room, the Archard children all quietly waited, standing at attention in front of their designated chairs for the evening. Diaspora had planned ahead and prepared for Arthur and Molly to sit with them at the far end of the table, with some extra seats between the adults and children for some measure of conversational privacy.

A couple of seats down from Diaspora's place stood Alaric next to a seat left open for Percy, so Percy could be seated near his agemates. Next to the open seat was Carlisle and then Dustin - for once seated next to each other. Next to Dustin was another empty seat, though this was for Ginevra, with Fain and Gérard set to sit on her other side.

On the other side of the table, Blaire stood with a few seats between where Molly and Arthur were marked to sit. Next to her were seats intended for George and Fred. Past these two opened place settings stood Esme by her chair with another opened place next to her for Ronald. After his designated spot were Henrik, Isabelle, and Janette.

With a flick of her wand, Diaspora arranged for another place setting to arrange itself on the table on the end next to Gérard and for the place cards to alter themselves to indicate where her youngest children needed to move. The triplets smoothly moved down one, with Janette moving over to be across from her sister and next to Gérard. All this to ensure Heir Apparent Harry Potter could sit near his agemates. They were all surprised to see Harry there, but no one made a noise. As their etiquette lessons dictated, they were not to speak until addressed or until dinner was served and polite chit chat was welcomed.

"Please have a seat," Diaspora directed. "There are place cards set up as a guide."

Ashton led Diaspora over to their seats, leaving Diaspora at the seat to his right while he stood at the chair at the head of the table. Molly and Arthur quickly found their places. Molly's lips pressed together firmly as she fought off the urge to frown at the small slight of Arthur not being seated to Lord Ashton's left; instead she was seated there and Arthur was next to her. Arthur didn't even notice, and remained blissfully unaware.

With the Weasleys and Harry now standing behind their chairs, Ashton finally directed everyone to be seated. Everyone happily took their seats, some more pleased than others to finally be able to sit down. As if they too were waiting for the cue, Honny, Dimper, and the other kitchen house-elf all came into the dining room floating multiple silver trays and dishes with steaming food.

In honour of the Weasleys joining them for dinner, Diaspora had directed the kitchen house-elves to prepare a feast of traditional British recipes, as well as some basics she knew her five youngest would enjoy. There was a large roasted lemon turkey, Lancashire hotpot, kidney and steak pies, and shepherd pies all paired with an assortment of roasted vegetables, garden green salad with olive dressing, mashed potatoes, and homemade buttery cobs.

Ashton took the traditional first helping of food as the head of the hosting family. The Weasley boys and their house-guest quickly followed suit and began serving themselves helpings of all the mouth-watering food. Now Molly Weasley was no slouch in the kitchen, and all her family loved her food, but there was just something about food prepared by house-elves that was undeniably delicious.

While the adults began a polite, and tense, discussion amongst themselves, Alaric took it upon himself to begin discussion amongst the children. "So Harry, we weren't expecting to see you this evening. When did you arrive at The Burrow?"

Harry swallowed his mouthful of steak and kidney pie before answering. "Just this morning. Honestly it was all rather last minute."

"You bet," added Fred. "Good thing we did too, his relatives were keeping locked up tight like a Muggle convict."

"Well, your relatives' strictness aside, we're glad you could join us," Blaire said politely with a warm smile on her face. "Mother had the house-elves cook more than enough food."

"How many house-elves do you have?" asked Ginevra curiously.

"Ginny!" reprimanded Percy. "Don't be rude!"

"It's fine, Percy," Blaire quickly reassured her fellow soon to be Sixth-Year.

Carlisle and Dustin picked up Ginevra's question. "Let's see…we got three elves in the kitchen," started Carlisle.

"Then two more who take care of the outside gardens and grounds," added Dustin.

Carlisle thought for a second before continuing, "Our parents each have their own personal elf-"

"-and then two more which take care of the inside of the manor itself," finished Dustin.

"And then there's Zimpsy who takes care of us," Janette cheerfully added.

"Woah~," Ginny gasped in amazement. "That's a lot of house-elves. I know Mummy sometimes wishes for one, but then she says that's why she had so many boys, to give them chores to help out."

"Yeah, Mum's got terrible timing with those. We spent the better part of the day de-gnoming the garden again," complained George.

A confused look overcame Esme's face. "But didn't you just do so the day before we played Quidditch last week? It seems awfully soon for the gnomes to have already returned."

"Yeah, that's because Dad's too soft with them," answered Ronald, with his mouth full of food. "He thinks they're funny."

"Swallow before you speak!" hissed Percy at his younger brother. Ronald ignored his brother as his eyes were fixed on Esme, who had pointedly ignored his reply and instead turned towards his younger sister and asked if she was excited to start her first year at Hogwarts in a month.

"Well…" Ginevra trailed off.

"No fair!" interjected Fain. "We have to wait a whole other year before we get to go!"

"Y-yeah," agreed Gérard. "You're lucky you get to go."

"If you'd like, I'll write to you this year until you can go to Hogwarts next year?" offered Ginevra, a shy but excited smile on her face.

"Sure!" accepted Fain, his twin nodding his head in agreement. "Esme already writes to us during the school year, but we'd love another person to hear from."

"W-what House do you think you'll be?" asked Gérard.

"Probably, Gryffindor," replied Ginevra in a soft voice.

"What makes you say that?" asked Henrik.

"Because it's the best House there is!" replied Ronald. "We've won the House Cup this past year and everything!" He continued to eat completely unaware of how all the Archards froze, a tenseness overcoming them at the mention of the forbidden subject. Esme gripped onto her silverware as fire ignited in her green eyes.

"What he meant is that Gryffindors tend to run in the family," George quickly interjected after seeing the upset tenseness of Blaire's shoulders and the concern misting in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Yeah, though Dad and Mum would be fine with any of the Houses for Ginny," added Fred, following his twin's lead in hopes of moving past this subject. Sadly, their younger brother foolishly remained ignorant of the mood his thoughtless words were causing.

"No they wouldn't. Mum would probably send a Howler if she ended up a snake in bloody Slytherin."

"Ron!" whispered Harry harshly, worried of the reaction Ronald's opinion would invoke, remembering the protective temper Alaric had shown to him before over Esme.

"What?" asked Ronald, face completely clueless as he finally stopped eating and saw the worried and angry stares and glares boring into him.

Esme was practically vibrating in her seat as she still refused to turn to her left and face Ronald. Meanwhile, Percy scooted away from Alaric, as he practically felt the anger rolling off Alaric's form.

"So," Carlisle suddenly said in a clearly fake chipper voice. "Who do you think will win this year's British-Irish League Cup?"

Like broken glass the overbearing mood shattered and vanished, as most followed Carlisle's lead and quickly moved on from the conversational faux pas Ronald Weasley continuously seemed to step in.

"The Montrose Magpies have won the most League Cups, so I'd say they have a fair shot," supplied Blaire, before taking a bite of potatoes.

"Yeah, but Tutshill Tornadoes have won the past two years," argued Dustin. "I say they have the best chance and will work hard to win for the third win in a row."

Fred made a tsking noise. "Yeah, but our old Housemate Angelina Johnson just graduated and last I heard joined the Holyhead Harpies as their new Chaser. She's vicious on her own, but can whip those other girls into a frenzy. I wouldn't count the Harpies out of the running this year."

"Wasn't she that girl who got kicked off the Gryffindor team by Madame Pomfrey for being too aggressive to the point of reckless self-endangerment to the point of countless sustained injuries?" asked Carlisle.

"And the only reason Alaric could play Quidditch with his ami intime?" asked Dustin with a snide smirk scrawled across his face.

The Weasley twins both chuckled. "Yeah, that was her," answered George. "Real spitfire, that one. Never wanted to be on her bad side."

"She sounds amazing," admired Ginevra, while Isabelle nodded her head in agreement.

"Quidditch is such a violent game," remarked Percy. "I prefer more sophisticated activities to fill my time. Studying for instance is very important during the school year, Ginny. It's how I got twelve O.W.L.s last year. Very few can boast of such an achievement."

Fred and George snorted. "Don't let Perfect Percy convince you to suck out all the fun," advised Fred to Ginevra mainly, but to any of the younger kids.

"Yeah," agreed George. "Studying's boring."

"I quite like studying. You can learn so many new things from books," commented Blaire with a passionate tone.

"I mean, studying can be fun with the right person," corrected George, gazing at Blaire - the two of them then trapped staring into each other's eyes.

"Blaire got twelve O.W.L.s too!" Alaric quickly added, his light tone not matching the fire brewing in his face as he stared down George Weasley - the promise of pain in his eyes. George cleared his throat and looked away from Blaire, looking across the table for help from Carlisle and Dustin, but blinked back when he found those two were also staring intensely at him.

"Wow, you must be really smart then," commented Ginevra. George internally blessed his sister for unknowingly coming to his aid.

"That's our Blaire," Esme added, a smile finally breaking across her face for the first time since the beginning of dinner.

"Perhaps Professor McGonagall will award you the open female prefect position," suggested Percy. "I wouldn't mind your assistance keeping order and the rule-breakers in line." A pointed look being sent his youngest brother's and Harry's way. Both boys shuffled in their seats, and while Harry at least appeared slightly guilty, Ronald utterly looked unashamed of himself.

"Well the decision is hers, though I wouldn't mind it if it were to happen," admitted Blaire. "I guess we shall see when the Hogwarts letters are sent out. They should be arriving any day now."

Any further discussion was halted when a bell was run. The children all looked to the head of the table where their respective parents sat. Lord Ashton Archard then asked them collectively, "Is everyone ready for dessert?"

The children glanced at their empty plates and the surprisingly almost bare platters. They all then either nodded their heads or verbally replied they were ready - everyone's mind instantly eagerly thinking of the prospective desserts.

With a snap of Ashton's fingers, the same three house-elves from before appeared through the kitchen door. Various snaps of their fingers occurred, resulting in the plates, platters, and dirty silverware all floating away into the kitchen to be cleaned.

The eldest looking house-elf dressed in a chef's outfit with a large pin shining from his collar stepped forward and announced, "There's be four different dessert pies to choose from. All made by Madame Molly Weasley. Strawberry and Cream, Apple, Treacle, and Lemon Meringue, all paired with freshly made vanilla gelato by Honny."

"Thank you, Dimper," replied Diaspora, happy to hear that all the pies passed Ashton's rigorous standards. Dimper wouldn't have offered to serve any of them otherwise.

After a small bow, the now named Dimper continued, "Please think loudly the flavour you want and we will serves it to you."

Everyone thought of the single or multiple slices of pie they wanted. Another series of snaps sounded as dessert plates ladened with various flavours of pie, all with a scoop of gelato, floated gently out from the kitchen straight to the intended recipient. Depending on the demand of certain flavours, some of the pieces were larger or smaller, as the house-elves made sure that everyone got a piece of the pie they mentally requested. Any pie left over could either be picked at by anyone still hungry or wrapped up as take-away for the dinner guests.

Everyone happily dug into the homemade desserts. Various hums echoed amongst the children, either for the pies or the gelato - some sort of new treat for everyone at the table. Harry was especially enjoying his slice of treacle tart and gelato, surprised to find he liked it so much more than regular ice cream.

"Honny's gelato is the absolute best!" declared Isabelle. "This summer, she even figured out how to use chocolate frogs to make an even better chocolate gelato. Which was great cause Henrik and I got to keep all the collectable cards!"

"Oh, you collect those cards? Ron does too," Ginny added. "He has a whole bunch of them and constantly begs you for the card if it's one of the few he still needs to complete his collection".

"Which is barmy," commented Fred. "They add new ones every time a witch or wizard becomes even remotely famous for something."

"Well, from a business standpoint it makes sense. Keep expanding the collection, so people keep buying chocolate frogs in bulk in hopes of getting the ones they need," said Carlisle.

"Barmy, just like he said. Fred, was it?" asked Dustin, looking at the boy in question. Fred nodded his head in confirmation, a pleased smirk on his face. After all, who better at telling identical twins apart but other identical twins.

"How is everything tasting, dears?" asked Molly Weasley, a slight look of worry on her face as she took in the Archard children. Her face smoothed out when all the children chorused in agreement that their respective pies were delicious. Molly then blushed when Lady Diaspora sincerely asked if Molly would share her recipes.

The evening was wrapped up not long later as it had grown quite late; many in both families yawning and longing for sleep. The few remaining portions of food were divided up between the families, with the Weasley portion being carefully packed for the drive home and spelled to remain fresh until they could be properly stored. A collective goodbye was shared between the families before Molly and Arthur shuffled their children and houseguest out the door and to the waiting car.

While the evening could be considered a success and everyone departed in a good mood, no immediate plans or promises of another family dinner were made. With only weeks until most of the children were off to Hogwarts, both families desired to spend the last of their time together. Three weeks and counting, before another year at Hogwarts began…another mystery waiting to be awakened.

Madame = Mrs.

Assurez-vous de vérifier s'il y a des poisons et des potions dans les tartes = Be sure to check for poisons and potions in the pies.

Ami intime = bosom buddy

Extra POVs

Molly POV

I truly believed this evening went better than I hoped for. I had been worried the Archard children wouldn't like my simple tasting pies, not when they were probably used to house-elf-made sweets. But I couldn't show up to a dinner party without bringing something; I still heard my mother's wailing voice in my head, lamenting about proper manners and behavior. Yet, my worries were for nothing and they all ate the pies with gusto.

Heaven's Garden had been intimidating. After living at The Burrow for so many years, I sometimes forgot the sheer wealth some of the other wizarding families possessed. I did miss the social events I used to attend as a Prewett. Fabian and Gideon never failed to liven things up when they became boring, and I always drew our mother sparse when I stood up for myself against any misogynist old wizard who dared to talk down to me like I was a simpleton.

Arthur and I lost so many friends in the last war…so many good people were killed. Arthur still had a few friends from the Ministry, but I often felt left out to hover mid-air alone on a broomstick without a single friend solely of my own. I hoped, perhaps, Diaspora could become my friend. She was only five years younger than me and I had some fond memories of when we were younger; not so many from Hogwarts since we were in different Houses, but still some good memories remained. Diaspora proved herself to be a gracious and kind hostess, and I felt we ended the evening in good humours, at least between us that was. Her husband was a different matter.

I couldn't imagine what it was like for such an expressive and warm witch to be married to such a stern and distant wizard. While the children all seemed to get along with each other, I couldn't be so sure with Lord Ashton, as he was just so hard to read at times. Yet, I was happy that despite his clear disdain for Arthur's obsess-, ahem, I mean Arthur's fascination with Muggles, Lord Ashton and Diaspora remained polite and treated Arthur and I as equals.

Neither of them once called us Blood Traitors like other families in High Society had done in the past. I did think perhaps Lord Ashton was thinking along those sentiments from the way his eyes would turn hard any time Arthur talked about any of the Muggle traditions or holidays he'd been teaching to the children. Still, apart from a few slights that were almost a given when dealing with those of nobility, I thought things went well. Perhaps well enough that while the children are away at Hogwarts, Diaspora and I could at least have tea together.

Ashton POV

Every fact I had heard about Arthur Weasley had proven itself true this evening. He was entirely obsessed and enamoured with the Non-Magic, or how he said Muggles, and their customs. He marveled after anything they made, be it big or small. While I could admit the Non-Magic had created some clever inventions through the centuries, I would never, ever do what Arthur had done. Never would I abandon generations of sacred customs and beliefs, not for interest over something different.

The Non-Magic were truly and entirely different from Magicals. They lacked magic and a connection with the Mother of Magic, she who blessed this world with a gift beyond our imagining. They, who were constantly at war with each other. In all the centuries of Magical-kind, there had only ever been two wizarding wars; all other wars being fought against other creatures, namely the goblin race.

For all Arthur's obsession with the Non-Magic and their 'ingenuity', I knew firsthand that the Non-Magic had the ingrained behavior of destroying things different from them, things they feared. And the Non-Magic would surely try to destroy Mother Magic in their ignorance of what they could never understand.

Still, I held my tongue, even without Diaspora's gentle reminders; none of the bitter and angry vitriol fueled by the memories of my family's death escaped my lips. Admittedly a few minor slights and remarks slipped past, but the wizard appeared to either ignore them or missed them entirely.

Perhaps Diaspora was correct, that we could bring the Weasley children back onto the proper path - teach Arthur reign in his obsession and recover the culture and customs he had lost. However, it would take time and patience, and I did not always have patience for those who tried it or reminded me of bitter things of the past.

Diaspora POV

I did not need to be a Legilimens to know the thoughts flowing around in my Lord Husband's mind. A soft nudge on his leg from my foot acted as the only reminder for him to keep his thoughts to himself. He had still been passive-aggressive all evening, divining out subtle slights and implied insults towards Arthur. Arthur never visibly reacted, and remained in good humour as he happily rambled on about the different Muggle traditions he taught to his children.

From the squinting of her eyes and tightening of her mouth, I knew Molly had at least caught some of Ashton's little comments, yet she continued to keep her silence and remained ever supportive of Arthur and his pursuits. She was different from the Molly I remembered growing up - one who was always outspoken with a burning temper ready to explode on any given or perceived slight. Despite her silence, I did not doubt Molly still had her temper, but perhaps she at last learned the restraint her mother had always been wailing about.

Despite the many tea socials I attended, I really only counted Andromeda as a friend and companion. She was my oldest friend and I had been heartbroken to leave Andy behind when I followed Ashton to France to marry. Perhaps Molly could be another friend; she certainly would not go blabbing to gossip crazed ladies of High Society, and most importantly, I think she was lonely.

Once the children were away at Hogwarts, Molly, for the first time in years, would not have a single child to take care of. If she was not lonely now, she certainly would be then. I would continue to press lightly and feel out the terrain of a possible friendship with Molly Weasley; perhaps even invite Molly for tea either alone or with Andy. Ashton may object, but I did still remain certain we could pull the Weasley family back to their roots.

Regardless, I did know for certain my oldest girl had found her spark with George Weasley. Assigning them to be seated next to each other was a stroke of genius on my part. Hopefully, those two would find the way to each other soon - Ashton would need the time to get used to the idea. However, if they stumbled about it, I could always convince Ashton to bluntly confront them with the proposition of courtship. Oh, decisions, decisions, decisions…

Arthur POV

I was by no means as clueless as I acted.

Despite my decisions to teach the children about Muggle traditions and customs, I still remembered my wizarding ones, and even some of the etiquette lessons my mother's cousin wailed about when I was courting Molly. She always wailed about something, usually Molly's temper getting out of hand. But it was Molly's fierceness which had originally drawn me into her.

Ours was a slow-burning romance. The quiet and awkward boy pining after the fiery and independent lady. I had barely stuttered my way through asking her permission to court her when Molly asked if I'd like to court her. I knew what Molly gave up when she agreed to marry me, but she had never been suited for High Society, despite her mother's high aspirations.

Now though, the Prewett line had died out; another family of High Society faded because of the actions of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and his fanatic Death Eaters. Blood supremacists, for all their talk of Pureblood supremacy and the sanctity of the blood, killed off hundreds of Purebloods and their lines during Britain's Second Wizarding War. There were all madder than a Black high on Dark magic.

I knew my fascination with Muggles grated on other wizards and witches, but in a way, it let me sort out who was the wrong or good sort - it was all in how they reacted and treated me (I was almost sorted into Ravenclaw, so I was allowed a few good ideas here and there). Wizards like Lucius Malfoy were the most vicious, the worst representation of the British Noble Houses. Yet, there were some wizards like Dumbledore, who encouraged me and my pursuits of knowledge of Muggles and their ways. In between were the wizards who either cautioned me to not lose myself or my roots, or simply disliked my decision but still treated me and my family fairly and with manners. This was where Lord Ashton fell.

Lord Ashton disapproved, that much was obvious from the way he grimaced slightly at the mention of Muggles, yet, he remained polite; never once discouraging me from speaking and never said anything nasty about me, my family, or even Muggles themselves. Even when I knew he had more reason than any wizard I knew to despise Muggles. News of Muggle attacks against the Archard family reached England, news of his relatives' murders orchestrated by wizards and witches using Muggles. Yet, Lord Ashton did not give in to the Dark, and I knew should He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named ever returned, that Dumbledore would welcome Lord Ashton into the Order.

Lord Ashton was a good representation of a Noble House, and I deeply hoped that as he acclimated himself into the Ministry and its politics, that Lord Ashton wouldn't be sucked in with those Blood Supremacists. Lucius and his ilk were slimy manipulators, but tonight Lord Ashton's actions reassured me he would remain firm against their passing waves. Perhaps Lord Ashton and the Archard family were what the British Ministry needed to tip the scales away from the archaic olden ways and turn towards a better tomorrow brought here today.

Big thank you to my Beta-Readers: Anonymous and TheSparkler!